


Part Five: Funding Disasters and Dates

by tisfan



Series: Choose Your Own Adventure [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Choose Your Own Adventure, M/M, Prom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 17:20:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15320409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan





	1. Fury's office, going to prom with Clint

There was only one thing worse than having to see the Principal, and that was _waiting_ for see the Principal. Bucky wondered if the whole waiting thing was part of the punishment.

He had to sit outside Fury’s office, just inside the main office, but in front of the glass windows -- everyone always called it the Fishbowl, and when you walked by in the hall, you could always tell who was in trouble. There were different seats if you were waiting for your mom to come pick you up early, and Ms. Hill, the secretary, would give you all sorts of the evil eye if you tried to pretend you were there for a pickup.

And Bucky might have been okay with it, if he was in trouble for doing something fun. There was no shame in getting stuck waiting for Fury if, say, he’d gotten busted for putting glitter in the gym teacher’s locker. But this time, he was in real trouble, and what was worse, Bucky didn’t even do anything.

But he was still going to get accused of stealing the Prom Ticket money.

Stealing was actual crime, not just mischief. Bucky could get in legal trouble for that, and man, his parents were not going to like that, at all. He could get detention, which admittedly, he’d gotten before, and his ma had grounded him for it, but he’d survived. But he could also get suspended, which would be punishment the likes of which he had not dealt. Or… Bucky was starting to get really nervous, jittering his leg up and down as an outlet for his frantic nerves, he could get _expelled_.

Expulsion meant he’d have to attend the delinquent, night school on the other side of the city. That would mean not graduating on time, and having to deal with students who were thieves and bullies and gang members and…

“Mr. Barnes, in my office,” Fury said, poking his head out the door like an evil jack-in-the-box.

Bucky swallowed around a lump in his throat the size of a golf ball.

“Sit.”

Bucky practically collapsed into the uncomfortable chair across from Principal Fury’s desk. Fury did not sit. Instead, he paced around the back half of his office, hands clasped together at the small of his back.

“If, at this time, you wish to confess to stealing the money,” Fury announced, “punishment will be minimal. You will, of course, lose your own prom tickets, and you will serve the remainder of the school year in detention. With attention to your classwork, it will likely not result in you being held back for a year, given your current grade point average.”

Fury turned to give Bucky a gimlet stare.

“I didn’t take it,” Bucky protested. “Look--” He started turning out his pockets. He didn’t even have a dollar in his wallet for a drink. He had a phone card with a few dollars on it, in case he needed to call home, and a metro card, and his driver’s permit, and that was it in his wallet.

“I’m going to send one of the facilities staff out to check your locker,” Fury said. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?”

“I _didn’t_ take it,” Bucky said, again. There was a hot burning under his collar for being accused; god knew his family wasn’t well off, but he wasn’t a _thief_. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Fury only hummed as if he didn’t believe Bucky. “If nothing else, you did sign _responsibility_ for the money,” Fury said. “And without any evidence that points to someone else, you will lose your prom tickets, and we’ll be contacting your parents. If we find evidence that you did steal the money, you will be expelled.”

Bucky swallowed hard. It wasn’t fair. He was going to be in trouble with his parents, regardless, and he didn’t even _do anything_. “Yes, sir,” Bucky said.

“Go back to class, Mr. Barnes,” Fury said, dismissing him.

Bucky skulked out of Fury’s office, feeling lower than a worm’s belly.

Phil Coulson and Peggy Carter were waiting for him just around the first turn of the hallway. Coulson had a hallpass clutched in one hand, but Peggy was just ditching and Bucky’s spirits lifted. “Did you find it?”

“No,” Peggy said, “but we don’t believe that you took it, either.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said, panting in sudden relief. “Look, I gotta go open m’ locker before facilities cuts my lock. I can’t even afford t’ replace it. Walk with me?”

Clint was waiting for them, when Bucky arrived at his locker. “We’ll figure this out, beautiful boyfriend,” Clint promised. “And when we find who took that cash, we’ll drag them up before Fury and God.”

“Fury does not rank ahead of God,” Phil said, rolling his eyes.

“Nonetheless,” Peggy said, “Clint is right--”

“Oh, say that again, I need to record it!”

“-- we shall take it upon ourselves to find who stole our prom money.”

They waited until facilities arrived before Bucky twisted through his lock combination and everyone turned to look, just in case the prom money flew out or something. Bucky scolded himself. Of course his friends believed him, and besides, there was nothing in his locker that shouldn’t be there.

The way the custodian, Mr. Stane, stared at him, Bucky was pretty sure the janitor had decided he was guilty; that his friends had already moved the cash, like Bucky was some sort of high end drug dealer or something equally improbable. But there was still no evidence, so… no prom, but there wasn’t anything else that Fury could do to him.

Aside from call his parents.

Bucky groaned.

“Text me, later, would ya?” he practically begged Clint. “Dad’s gonna tan m’ hide an’ I’m gonna need some comfort.”

“I can come over for study session?”

“Not tonight,” Bucky said. “Maybe tomorrow?”

Clint nodded.

That afternoon, he walked Bucky home, but Ma was already waiting on the stoop, so there wasn’t any time for words, or sweet, goodbye kisses.

“Upstairs, young man,” Ma said, pointing.

Bucky let his hand slip out of Clint’s and headed up.

Much later, after Bucky had sat through a lecture from his ma, another, harsher lecture from his dad, and been sent to his room without dinner, he got a text message.

 **New Text from Clint** : Can u snk out? Have idea

 

[Sneak out to Meet Clint](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16398518/chapters/38386322)

**Stay inside (skip to after prom party)**


	2. Date with Clint

Tony Stark came out of the senior lounge where he typically ate his lunch, to tell Bucky that he was holding The after Prom party at Stark Manor. Of course it was The After Prom Party, Buckaroo, why would anyone go anywhere else? And that Clint and Bucky were encouraged to drop by.

“Especially if he’s the prom sovereign,” Sam added, and Bucky was forced to kick him again.

As he was headed into his afternoon classes, he had a text from Clint:

_Hey, beautiful boyfriend, wanna go out, after I get out of detention  
Buy you an ice cream?_

Bucky shook his head, grinning from ear to ear. _UR in detentin agn? I haz delinquent bf._

New text from Clint: _That’s yes?_

Bucky texted back an ice cream emoji and a tongue emoji.

New text from Clint: :wide eyes emoji: _cn thnk of bttr things to do with that_

 _Ice cream._ Bucky responded, then ducked into his class. _Is go._

Bucky hung around the corner, just south of the school, waiting for his misbehaving boyfriend to get out of detention again. He laced his fingers with Clint’s and they walked down to the bodega. It wasn’t quite the same as being able to get a fresh scooped cone or a banana split to share, but Bucky picked up an orange pushpop and Clint got something that was supposed to be a mutant ninja turtle.

“It sure is mutated,” Bucky admitted, staring at the green… thing that Clint was shoving into his mouth.

“No, but, like get this,” Clint said, and he licked a runner of ice cream off his arm. “What would you say to pizza flavored ice cream?”

“Ew?”

“No, really?”

“Really. There are some things with which man was not meant to meddle. Pizza and ice cream both qualify,” Bucky said. “You just can’t improve on perfection.”

“Because you admitted pizza is perfect, I won’t hold your plebeian tastes against you,” Clint said. “Aw, ice cream, no.” One of the green -- was it an ear? Did turtles have ears? -- fell off Clint’s rapidly melting novelty and splatted on the little table.

“Do _not_ even five second rule that, this is a bodega table, it’s probably got cocaine and herpes on it,” Bucky said, smacking Clint’s hand away from the green blob.

Despite being neon green, when Bucky leaned over to steal a kiss, Clint tasted like nothing more sinister than artificial vanilla.

“So, like, first date an’ all,” Clint said, rubbing his foot absently against the sidewalk, “I can’t really afford, like to go to Prospect Zoo or nothin’, but sometimes I go down to the animal shelter and look after some of the dogs there. If you, you know, wanted to take a few pups for a walk?”

Bucky grinned. “That’d be great. Let’s absolutely do that.”

The walk was nice, squished close together so they could walk hand-in-hand without being that annoying couple that took up the whole walkway. It was sunny, and maybe a little too warm, but that was okay. Bucky felt like he was walking on clouds, and each breeze made his heart lift. Although that might have just been Clint and his terrible jokes.

The dogs were all excited to see visitors, and Bucky and Clint were put to work right away, cleaning cages, feeding the animals, taking a few for a walk. One poor specimen was missing an eye and walked with a bad limp, but Clint lovingly called the mutt Lucky. “I sort of think of him as mine,” Clint said. “No one wants him, poor boy, and I take him for a walk every single time I’m here.”

Bucky was given a cat, Liho, who was trained to a leash, to walk, and they took the animals through the shortcut to a little stretch of green, to get some fresh air.

Liho didn’t walk so much as amble, but Lucky didn’t seem to mind. The cat would walk along with them for a bit, then try desperately to climb one of the scrubby little trees (or Bucky’s leg) and then chase a squirrel or flop down on a dusty bit of path.

Clint let Lucky off his leash for a bit and played fetch with a very ratty tennis ball that Clint kept in a ziplock buried in the bottom of his backpack until some lady with a fancy poodle and a fancy haircut threatened to turn them in for having a vicious animal off its lead.

Liho hadn’t shown much interest in the tennis ball, but she did attack Lucky’s tail when he laid over near the boys to rest.

Clint and Bucky discussed homework for the few classes they had together, razzed on the baseball team’s chances (bad) and the girls basketball team (very good, but their star center, Kamala, was amazing). They badmouthed some of their teachers and expressed admiration for Peggy’s handling of the prom decorations.

By the time they got the animals back to the shelter and were headed home, Bucky was getting hungry. “You wanna come in for dinner?”

“Feed me? You said the magic word, Barnes,” Clint said. “Feed me, and I will follow you anywhere.”

“You already do that,” Bucky pointed out. “Hey, Ma! Clint followed me home again, can I keep ‘im?”

“Only if he’s housebroken,” Becca said, sotto-voce.

“She shouldn’t say that,” Clint whispered. “It makes me want to pee on the floor.”

“Do not-- either of you,” Bucky pointed back and forth between his boyfriend and his sister. “How did I end up the responsible one here?”

“Lack of better options,” Clint replied.

“We’re gonna hang up in my room,” Bucky said. “Call us for dinner!” He pulled Clint in for a quick peck, then headed for the stairs.

“Ug, you two are gross,” Becca said.

“Jealousy, it’s an ugly thing,” Bucky said, and then shut the door in her face. Ma was by about three minutes later to turn the knob and push the door open about six inches. Bucky wasn’t going to get away with anything more than a little frantic kissing, while keeping an ear out for footsteps in the hall.

Which was fine.

Kissing Clint was real nice.

 

**Skip to Prom**


	3. Fury's Lecture, Rumlow

There was only one thing worse than having to see the Principal, and that was _waiting_ for see the Principal. Bucky wondered if the whole waiting thing was part of the punishment.

He had to sit outside Fury’s office, just inside the main office, but in front of the glass windows -- everyone always called it the Fishbowl, and when you walked by in the hall, you could always tell who was in trouble. There were different seats if you were waiting for your mom to come pick you up early, and Ms. Hill, the secretary, would give you all sorts of the evil eye if you tried to pretend you were there for a pickup.

And Bucky might have been okay with it, if he was in trouble for doing something fun. There was no shame in getting stuck waiting for Fury if, say, he’d gotten busted for putting glitter in the gym teacher’s locker. But this time, he was in real trouble, and what was worse, Bucky didn’t even do anything.

But he was still going to get accused of stealing the Prom Ticket money.

Stealing was actual crime, not just mischief. Bucky could get in legal trouble for that, and man, his parents were not going to like that, at all. He could get detention, which admittedly, he’d gotten before, and his ma had grounded him for it, but he’d survived. But he could also get suspended, which would be punishment the likes of which he had not dealt. Or… Bucky was starting to get really nervous, jittering his leg up and down as an outlet for his frantic nerves, he could get _expelled_.

Expulsion meant he’d have to attend the delinquent, night school on the other side of the city. That would mean not graduating on time, and having to deal with students who were thieves and bullies and gang members and…

“Mr. Barnes, in my office,” Fury said, poking his head out the door like an evil jack-in-the-box.

Bucky swallowed around a lump in his throat the size of a golf ball.

“Sit.”

Bucky practically collapsed into the uncomfortable chair across from Principal Fury’s desk. Fury did not sit. Instead, he paced around the back half of his office, hands clasped together at the small of his back.

“If, at this time, you wish to confess to stealing the money,” Fury announced, “punishment will be minimal. You will, of course, lose your own prom tickets, and you will serve the remainder of the school year in detention. With attention to your classwork, it will likely not result in you being held back for a year, given your current grade point average.”

Fury turned to give Bucky a gimlet stare.

“I didn’t take it,” Bucky protested. “Look--” He started turning out his pockets. He didn’t even have a dollar in his wallet for a drink. He had a phone card with a few dollars on it, in case he needed to call home, and a metro card, and his driver’s permit, and that was it in his wallet.

“I’m going to send one of the facilities staff out to check your locker,” Fury said. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?”

“I _didn’t_ take it,” Bucky said, again. There was a hot burning under his collar for being accused; god knew his family wasn’t well off, but he wasn’t a _thief_. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Fury only hummed as if he didn’t believe Bucky. “If nothing else, you did sign _responsibility_ for the money,” Fury said. “And without any evidence that points to someone else, you will lose your prom tickets, and we’ll be contacting your parents. If we find evidence that you did steal the money, you will be expelled.”

Bucky swallowed hard. It wasn’t fair. He was going to be in trouble with his parents, regardless, and he didn’t even _do anything_. “Yes, sir,” Bucky said.

“Go back to class, Mr. Barnes,” Fury said, dismissing him.

Bucky skulked out of Fury’s office, feeling lower than a worm’s belly.

Phil Coulson and Peggy Carter were waiting for him just around the first turn of the hallway. Coulson had a hallpass clutched in one hand, but Peggy was just ditching and Bucky’s spirits lifted. “Did you find it?”

“No,” Peggy said, “but we don’t believe that you took it, either.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said, panting in sudden relief. “Look, I gotta go open m’ locker before facilities cuts my lock. I can’t even afford t’ replace it. Walk with me?”

They waited until facilities arrived before Bucky twisted through his lock combination and everyone turned to look, just in case the prom money flew out or something. Bucky scolded himself. Of course his friends believed him, and besides, there was nothing in his locker that shouldn’t be there.

The way the custodian, Mr. Stane, stared at him, Bucky was pretty sure the janitor had decided he was guilty; that his friends had already moved the cash, like Bucky was some sort of high end drug dealer or something equally improbable. But there was still no evidence, so… no prom, but there wasn’t anything else that Fury could do to him.

Aside from call his parents.

He texted with Brock on his way home, explaining what had happened.

New Text from Brock Don’t worry, sweetcheeks  
Hit prom party & get wasted  
Dont need damn school NE way

Ma was already waiting on the stoop when Bucky got home.

“Upstairs, young man,” Ma said, pointing.

Bucky trudged up the stairs. Ma didn’t look like she was going to believe anything he said. Much later, after Bucky had sat through a lecture from his ma, another, harsher lecture from his dad, and been sent to his room without dinner, he got a text message.

 **New Text from Peggy** : Tell your parents I need to get notes from you. I will meet you at the school in two hours.

 

[ **Sneak out to meet Peggy** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16398518/chapters/38386373)

**Do not Sneak Out**


	4. Date with Rumlow

“I was thinking we could maybe go back to my place and study,” Brock suggested, crowding closer. Bucky shivered.

He and Brock didn’t have any classes together, so it was pretty obvious Brock had something else in mind.

Bucky couldn’t _wait._

The day seemed to drag by, but finally the last bell rang -- technically, it wasn’t even a bell, it was a buzzer, but everyone called it that, just like everyone still hung up their phones -- and Bucky grabbed his pack and was out the door before the echoes had died off.

No baseball practice today, and the weather was fine and clear. Brock met him a few minutes later, down by the edge of the diamond. He waited a few steps until they were off school property and then lit up a smoke. Bucky was pretty sure Brock wasn’t eighteen yet, but there were enough corner bodegas and street vendors that it was always possible to find someplace that would sell underage.

“What’s th’ plan?” Bucky asked.

Brock slung an arm under Bucky’s pack, a warm weight against the small of Bucky’s back and then his fingers slid into Bucky’s back pocket. Every nerve in Bucky’s body lit up at that not-casual, charged touch. “No plan, not yet,” Brock said. “Thought we’d get a snack at Mason’s, then hang out up my in room.” He gave Bucky a wink. “Need to keep my grades up, so a little school work, then watch a show?”

Brock wasn’t the most studious guy, but they both needed to maintain at least a B average in order to stay on the team, and while Brock didn’t care about school, he did care about the team. Bucky leaned into him. “Sure. Sounds good.”

Brock bought them sodas and a bag of chips, then led him up a sixth floor walk up. The door’s buzzer was broken, and there was a homeless dude hanging out in the foyer, where the mailboxes were. Brock checked the mail, tossed the bum his change from the snacks, and they went upstairs.

“Hey, Nonna,” Brock said to the elderly woman sitting on a pale blue sofa in the middle of the main room. He spoke with her for a few minutes in a different language that Bucky was sure wasn’t Spanish, but might have been Italian. “This is my grandmother, Valentina Rumlow. Nonna, this is my friend from school, Bucky Barnes.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” Bucky said. He wasn’t sure if he should offer his hand. Brock’s grandmother was clutching a horse-head cane with both hands, fingers laced together over the top.

Brock’s grandmother looked at him, then shrugged. “He seems like a nice boy,” she told Brock. “Go put that _parmigiana di melanzane_ in the oven. Growing boys need good food.”

“Yeah, okay, Nonna,” Brock said. “You like eggplant? Nonna makes ‘em up.” He appeared a little anxious, like Bucky was going to complain about food.

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” he said. Bucky wasn’t sure he’d ever actually had eggplant before.

Brock practically dragged Bucky into the kitchen, where he pulled out a foil wrapped casserole dish and popped it into the oven. “It’s just me and Nonna, so she cooks up one or two of these a week an’ we eat out of it.”

“Where’s your parents?” Bucky asked before thinking twice about it, then clapped a hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry--” he said behind his fingers. “--should I have not asked that?”

“Momma died,” Brock said, “when I was bitty. Dad used to run with Savage Crims until he got busted for murder. Nonna took me in, even though she didn’t think I’d amount to anything.” He chewed his lip. “Doing the best I can. Looking after her. I don’t think she’s sorry that she did.”

“No, really, man,” Bucky said, putting his hand on Brock’s arm. “You’re a good guy, she should be proud.”

Brock shrugged. “Yeah, okay, enough history, it’s depressing,” he said. He got the oven started and then pulled Bucky back into his room with a “we’re gonna study a bit, Nonna.”

Brock’s room was painfully neat, the bed made and shelves tidy. It didn’t look like any teenager’s room Bucky’d ever seen. He was almost afraid to sit down. Especially since there was only the one desk chair. But Brock just shoved him over onto the bed, denting the duvet and throwing his books onto the pillows.

It didn’t take long for them to get comfortable, shoes on the floor. Brock was correcting his English essay, poking at it with a pencil, a pillow bunched up under his chest, and Bucky was reading the history chapter, using Brock’s butt as a backrest, when the buzzer went off from the kitchen for dinner.

Eggplant, it turned out, was amazing. Some sort of fried vegetable patty and tons of spice and sauce and cheese over it, rich with garlic. Bucky went back for seconds and probably would have done thirds, but he didn’t want Brock to be hungry later in the week. Brock’s Nonna was thrilled that Bucky liked it and cooed over him in her rich, rolling Italian. Brock translated some of it, and then spent the rest of dinner blushing into his napkin.

“What was that about?” Bucky asked when they were doing the dishes, Brock washing and Bucky drying.

“Nonna’s a little… enthusiastic,” Brock said. “Thinks it’s good I have a _nice boy_.”

“I’m nice?” Bucky wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be offended or not.

“I think you’re _real nice_ ,” Brock said, in his ear, ending it with a nip at Bucky’s earlobe. The warm feel of Brock’s breath on his skin gave him shivers.

Bucky wasn’t sure what show Brock put on to watch; they sat on the sofa and Brock pulled down an afghan to lay over their laps. It wasn’t cold, and under the blanket it was even warmer, but Brock had his hand on Bucky’s thigh the whole time, and Bucky couldn’t think of anything else except the curve of Brock’s hand and where his fingertips were resting.

After the credit scrawl, they went back into Brock’s room to pack up Bucky’s bag, and Brock kissed him. Soft and eager and a little clumsy; they bumped noses a few times before Bucky figured out what to do with his mouth, and then Brock’s hands were in both of Bucky’s pockets, tugging him closer, and it was the sweetest, hottest thing Bucky had ever done.

He was flushing and flustered and had to adjust himself after Brock finally let him go, and he kept sneaking his tongue out of his mouth to taste Brock’s cigarettes on his lip.

“Lemme walk you to the train,” Brock offered, “an’ I’ll see you at school on Monday?”

**Skip to Prom**


	5. Fury's Lecture, Prom with Steve

There was only one thing worse than having to see the Principal, and that was _waiting_ for see the Principal. Bucky wondered if the whole waiting thing was part of the punishment.

He had to sit outside Fury’s office, just inside the main office, but in front of the glass windows -- everyone always called it the Fishbowl, and when you walked by in the hall, you could always tell who was in trouble. There were different seats if you were waiting for your mom to come pick you up early, and Ms. Hill, the secretary, would give you all sorts of the evil eye if you tried to pretend you were there for a pickup.

And Bucky might have been okay with it, if he was in trouble for doing something fun. There was no shame in getting stuck waiting for Fury if, say, he’d gotten busted for putting glitter in the gym teacher’s locker. But this time, he was in real trouble, and what was worse, Bucky didn’t even do anything.

But he was still going to get accused of stealing the Prom Ticket money.

Stealing was actual crime, not just mischief. Bucky could get in legal trouble for that, and man, his parents were not going to like that, at all. He could get detention, which admittedly, he’d gotten before, and his ma had grounded him for it, but he’d survived. But he could also get suspended, which would be punishment the likes of which he had not dealt. Or… Bucky was starting to get really nervous, jittering his leg up and down as an outlet for his frantic nerves, he could get _expelled_.

Expulsion meant he’d have to attend the delinquent, night school on the other side of the city. That would mean not graduating on time, and having to deal with students who were thieves and bullies and gang members and…

“Mr. Barnes, in my office,” Fury said, poking his head out the door like an evil jack-in-the-box.

Bucky swallowed around a lump in his throat the size of a golf ball.

“Sit.”

Bucky practically collapsed into the uncomfortable chair across from Principal Fury’s desk. Fury did not sit. Instead, he paced around the back half of his office, hands clasped together at the small of his back.

“If, at this time, you wish to confess to stealing the money,” Fury announced, “punishment will be minimal. You will, of course, lose your own prom tickets, and you will serve the remainder of the school year in detention. With attention to your classwork, it will likely not result in you being held back for a year, given your current grade point average.”

Fury turned to give Bucky a gimlet stare.

“I didn’t take it,” Bucky protested. “Look--” He started turning out his pockets. He didn’t even have a dollar in his wallet for a drink. He had a phone card with a few dollars on it, in case he needed to call home, and a metro card, and his driver’s permit, and that was it in his wallet.

“I’m going to send one of the facilities staff out to check your locker,” Fury said. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?”

“I _didn’t_ take it,” Bucky said, again. There was a hot burning under his collar for being accused; god knew his family wasn’t well off, but he wasn’t a _thief_. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Fury only hummed as if he didn’t believe Bucky. “If nothing else, you did sign _responsibility_ for the money,” Fury said. “And without any evidence that points to someone else, you will lose your prom tickets, and we’ll be contacting your parents. If we find evidence that you did steal the money, you will be expelled.”

Bucky swallowed hard. It wasn’t fair. He was going to be in trouble with his parents, regardless, and he didn’t even _do anything_. “Yes, sir,” Bucky said.

“Go back to class, Mr. Barnes,” Fury said, dismissing him.

Bucky skulked out of Fury’s office, feeling lower than a worm’s belly.

Phil Coulson and Peggy Carter were waiting for him just around the first turn of the hallway. Coulson had a hallpass clutched in one hand, but Peggy was just ditching and Bucky’s spirits lifted. “Did you find it?”

“No,” Peggy said, “but we don’t believe that you took it, either.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said, panting in sudden relief. “Look, I gotta go open m’ locker before facilities cuts my lock. I can’t even afford t’ replace it. Walk with me?”

Steve was waiting for them, when Bucky arrived at his locker. “What happened, Buck? Someone told me you stole the prom money, that’s ridiculous.”

“Don’t tell me you hit anyone,” Bucky groaned. The last thing he needed was Steve getting detention before prom.

“I didn’t hit Jenn Waters,” Steve protested. “I just told her where to stick it.”

“Steve--”

“-- we shall take it upon ourselves to find who stole our prom money.” Peggy was saying.

“What?”

“I don’t believe you took that money, James,” Peggy said. “And we shall figure a way to prove it.”

They waited until facilities arrived before Bucky twisted through his lock combination and everyone turned to look, just in case the prom money flew out or something. Bucky scolded himself. Of course his friends believed him, and besides, there was nothing in his locker that shouldn’t be there.

The way the custodian, Mr. Stane, stared at him, Bucky was pretty sure the janitor had decided he was guilty; that his friends had already moved the cash, like Bucky was some sort of high end drug dealer or something equally improbable. But there was still no evidence, so… no prom, but there wasn’t anything else that Fury could do to him.

Aside from call his parents.

Bucky groaned.

“Text me, later, would ya?” he practically begged Steve. “Dad’s gonna tan m’ hide an’ I’m gonna need some comfort.”

“I can come over for dinner?” Steve looked worried. “He won’t really hit you, will he?”

“Probably not,” Bucky admitted. It’d been a while since Dad had smacked him for misbehaving. He was just in for a lecture, and probably getting grounded. “But don’t come over tonight, I don’t…” _Want anyone watching while Dad yells at me._

Steve nodded. “Okay, Buck.”

That afternoon, he walked Bucky home, but Ma was already waiting on the stoop, so there wasn’t any time for words, or sweet, goodbye kisses.

“Upstairs, young man,” Ma said, pointing.

Bucky let his hand slip out of Steve’s and headed up.

Much later, after Bucky had sat through a lecture from his ma, another, harsher lecture from his dad, and been sent to his room without dinner, Steve was sitting on the fire escape.  
“Come on out,” he said. “Carter’s got an idea.”

[ **Sneak out** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16398518/chapters/38386277)

**Stay inside (skip to after prom party)**


	6. Date with Steve

“Especially if he’s the prom sovereign,” Sam added, and Bucky was forced to kick him again.

Bucky was just headed off to his next class when he got a text from Steve.

_Since we’re doing the boyfriends thing, Ma wants you to come over for dinner, okay?_

Bucky couldn’t help but grin as he texted back that he’d love to.

The day seemed to drag by, but finally the last bell rang -- technically, it wasn’t even a bell, it was a buzzer, but everyone called it that, just like everyone still hung up their phones -- and Bucky grabbed his pack and was out the door before the echoes had died off.

No baseball practice today, and the weather was fine and clear. Steve was outside the door of the library. He was already wheezing and Bucky put an arm under him while Steve got his inhaler out and took a drag off it.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” Steve said, “no, really this time, actually nothing. Just cut through the ‘shop classroom to get outside and they’d been using the bandsaw.”

“Aw, Stevie,” Bucky said. “I’dda waited for you.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t want you to,” Steve said. “Have to wait, I mean, I always--” Steve broke off, blushing.

“Aw,” Bucky said again. “Do you want me to wait for you?” He slung an arm around Steve’s neck, dragging him in for a hug. Suddenly a thing they did all the time seemed somehow more charged with meaning, expectations, and Bucky let go, awkward. He wasn’t entirely sure what they were supposed to do, now that they were _dating_ instead of just… friends.

Steve was blushing furiously, but at least the wheezing had stopped. “I want you to not have to wait for me,” Steve said. “I want… to just be able to do things, like normal people.”

“You ain’t normal people,” Bucky said, “an’ neither am I. You’re extraordinary, Steve, I don’t know why you cain’t see it.”

“Ha ha.”

“Seriously,” Bucky said. “I’m not… look, we’re not going to prom as some sort of pity thing. We’re going because I like you and you like me, and nothing’s changed, Steve, except now I might want to rub up on you an’ kiss you.”

Steve flushed even harder. “I always wanted you to,” he admitted.

Oh. _Oh._ “Oh.”

Which really seemed like too good an opportunity to ignore, so Bucky checked their surroundings, backed Steve up into one of the alleys on the far side of the school and did just that.

It was in fact, a terrible kiss. Steve’s lips were dry and chapped and he had no idea what to do with his tongue, sort of sticking it out there like he was licking a stamp. But at the same time, it was the best kiss ever, because Bucky was kissing _Steve_. Steve had his arms wrapped around Bucky’s neck, dragging him down, his lips pressed against Bucky’s.

Bucky moved in, hand braced against the brick. He got one thigh in between Steve’s legs and pushed him up until Steve was practically riding him. Gently, coaxing, he got Steve to open his mouth, let Bucky in to explore and taste and--

“Oh, Christ,” Bucky murmured, “why’d we wait s’long t’ try this?”

Steve didn’t answer, just twined his hand in the hair at the back of Bucky’s head and yanked him back down.

That was a little better, even if their teeth did clack together and Bucky hadn’t quite figured out which way to tip his head to keep from bumping noses.

Steve jerked in his arms, and Bucky looked down to see Steve pinching his own arm. “You think you’re dreamin, Stevie?”

“Don’t you?” Steve poked him in the ribs, which tickled, and Bucky backed up, guarding his sides from Steve’s fingers.

“I know I am,” Bucky said. “Dreamin’ of you.”

Steve tickled him again, and again, until Bucky was forced to grab Steve’s wrists and pin him to the wall. “You’re a _liar_ , Bucky Barnes,” Steve said, and he was laughing a little, and at the same time, looked almost ready to cry. “You never thought about this _at all_. You never thought of me, like this.”

“Hey, hey, Stevie, no,” Bucky said. He let one of Steve’s hands go in order to cup the side of his face. “Ain’t like that. I swear. Don’t get down on yourself because I’m too stupid to notice. I didn’t, okay, no. I didn’t think of you like that because you were… you were too important to me, to risk it. How could I lose you, Steve? Maybe you’re just braver than I am.”

“Yeah, right,” Steve said.

“No, you are,” Bucky said. “Bravest person I know. It don’t take bravery to stand up when you know you’re gonna win. That’s… you stand up anyway. That takes guts.”

“Jerk,” Steve accused him, but he looked happier, and when Steve reached out to tickle again, Bucky let him get away with it. It made Bucky hot and squirmy and excited, and by the time he couldn’t stand it anymore, they were both breathing hard. Bucky pinned Steve against the wall again, kissing him fiercely.

“Punk,” Bucky told him. “I’m here now, ain’t I? That’s all that matters.”

“Yeah,” Steve decided. “C’mon, let’s go back to my house? It’s hot as hades out here.”

Bucky laced his fingers with Steve’s and they headed down into their neighborhood. Sarah Rogers was expecting them for dinner, but Bucky knew she usually worked late, and he’d probably be able to spent at least a little bit of time making out with Steve on Steve’s bed, and that was enough to make Bucky go wobbly in the knees.

Going to prom with Steve was the best idea ever.

**Skip to Prom**


	7. Fury's Lecture, going to Prom with Tony

There was only one thing worse than having to see the Principal, and that was _waiting_ for see the Principal. Bucky wondered if the whole waiting thing was part of the punishment.

He had to sit outside Fury’s office, just inside the main office, but in front of the glass windows -- everyone always called it the Fishbowl, and when you walked by in the hall, you could always tell who was in trouble. There were different seats if you were waiting for your mom to come pick you up early, and Ms. Hill, the secretary, would give you all sorts of the evil eye if you tried to pretend you were there for a pickup.

And Bucky might have been okay with it, if he was in trouble for doing something fun. There was no shame in getting stuck waiting for Fury if, say, he’d gotten busted for putting glitter in the gym teacher’s locker. But this time, he was in real trouble, and what was worse, Bucky didn’t even do anything.

But he was still going to get accused of stealing the Prom Ticket money.

Stealing was actual crime, not just mischief. Bucky could get in legal trouble for that, and man, his parents were not going to like that, at all. He could get detention, which admittedly, he’d gotten before, and his ma had grounded him for it, but he’d survived. But he could also get suspended, which would be punishment the likes of which he had not dealt. Or… Bucky was starting to get really nervous, jittering his leg up and down as an outlet for his frantic nerves, he could get _expelled_.

Expulsion meant he’d have to attend the delinquent, night school on the other side of the city. That would mean not graduating on time, and having to deal with students who were thieves and bullies and gang members and…

“Mr. Barnes, in my office,” Fury said, poking his head out the door like an evil jack-in-the-box.

Bucky swallowed around a lump in his throat the size of a golf ball.

“Sit.”

Bucky practically collapsed into the uncomfortable chair across from Principal Fury’s desk. Fury did not sit. Instead, he paced around the back half of his office, hands clasped together at the small of his back.

“If, at this time, you wish to confess to stealing the money,” Fury announced, “punishment will be minimal. You will, of course, lose your own prom tickets, and you will serve the remainder of the school year in detention. With attention to your classwork, it will likely not result in you being held back for a year, given your current grade point average.”

Fury turned to give Bucky a gimlet stare.

“I didn’t take it,” Bucky protested. “Look--” He started turning out his pockets. He didn’t even have a dollar in his wallet for a drink. He had a phone card with a few dollars on it, in case he needed to call home, and a metro card, and his driver’s permit, and that was it in his wallet.

“I’m going to send one of the facilities staff out to check your locker,” Fury said. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?”

“I _didn’t_ take it,” Bucky said, again. There was a hot burning under his collar for being accused; god knew his family wasn’t well off, but he wasn’t a _thief_. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Fury only hummed as if he didn’t believe Bucky. “If nothing else, you did sign _responsibility_ for the money,” Fury said. “And without any evidence that points to someone else, you will lose your prom tickets, and we’ll be contacting your parents. If we find evidence that you did steal the money, you will be expelled.”

Bucky swallowed hard. It wasn’t fair. He was going to be in trouble with his parents, regardless, and he didn’t even _do anything_. “Yes, sir,” Bucky said.

“Go back to class, Mr. Barnes,” Fury said, dismissing him.

Bucky skulked out of Fury’s office, feeling lower than a worm’s belly.

Phil Coulson and Peggy Carter were waiting for him just around the first turn of the hallway. Coulson had a hallpass clutched in one hand, but Peggy was just ditching and Bucky’s spirits lifted. “Did you find it?”

“No,” Peggy said, “but we don’t believe that you took it, either.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said, panting in sudden relief. “Look, I gotta go open m’ locker before facilities cuts my lock. I can’t even afford t’ replace it. Walk with me?”

Tony was waiting for him at Bucky’s locker. “Look, darling,” Tony said, brushing his lips over Bucky’s cheek. “I’m going to go talk to Fury. I don’t think you took the money, but I don’t have any way to prove it. Not yet.” He winked at Peggy, who rolled her eyes.

“Stark--”

“No, listen,” Tony said, “I’m going to cover the loss. Fury doesn’t really care who took the money, just that it’s missing. It’ll buy us some time to find out who did take it. And in the meanwhile, no one will call Bucky’s parents, and there’ll be no detention, right? Right.”

“Tony, you don’t gotta--”

“No, Stark’s right,” Peggy said. “We all know you didn’t do it, you didn’t have any time for that. So, we get the immediate problem taken care of, and then we find our thief.”

“No arguing,” Tony said. “Let me be useful, for once.”

“I insist,” and Tony ran off, grabbing Mr. Stane, the janitor, by the wrist, dragging him off to the office. “You don’t need to cut open Bucky’s locker, Obie, don’t worry, there’s nothing to worry about now.”

“Your boyfriend is such a showboater,” Phil Coulson said.

Bucky tried on a smile and it almost fit. It completely wasn’t fair t have Tony bailing him out like this, but at the same time, Bucky hadn’t stolen the money, and what else was he going to do?

After school, he sat around in his bedroom with a sinking sense of dread. It was like waiting for his parents to find out he’d flunked his history test or something. He knew he couldn’t keep this from them forever, eventually they were going to find out, but he couldn’t bring himself to confess.

Dinner came and went. Bucky pleaded needing to study for his English quiz and hid in his bedroom. An hour later, there was a rap at the glass and he looked out to see Tony sitting on the fire escape. “I’ll tell ya, Buckaroo, I didn’t quite believe Steve that there was a way to get directly into your bedroom. Naughty,” Tony said. “I’ll be sure to take advantage of this very interesting architectural design later. For now, come with me. I have an idea.”

[ **Sneak out with Tony** ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16398518/chapters/38386343)

**Skip to Prom**


	8. Date with Tony

“So, like, this is boring,” Tony said. “I’ll have to come out and eat lunch with you, tomorrow. I can’t bring you into the senior lounge, Mr. Ross absolutely won’t allow it.” Mr. Ross, the assistant principal, was kinda a hard ass.

“Don’t worry about it,” Bucky tried to brush it off as no big deal.

“I _want_ to sit with you, snowflake,” Tony said. “Also, why don’t you come over, tonight? Bring swim trunks, we’ll hop in the jacuzzi.”

Bucky could feel his neck heating. “Yeah, that… uh, that sounds great.”

“Excellent,” Tony said, rubbing his hands together. “See you soon, pumpkin.”

Tony walked Bucky to his next class, which was sweet, except then Tony had to sprint to get to his own class on time. Bucky watched until Tony was out of sight before ducking into class. He endured some good natured razzing from Clint about his love life being on the run.

The day dragged. Bucky gathered up his books and stuffed them in his bag. Practically ran home.

“Why are you doing homework in the dining room?” Becca demanded.

“‘Cause Tony’s gonna pick me up for a date,” Bucky said. He’d already ransacked his dresser looking for his swim trunks. He hadn’t worn them in like two years and hoped that they fit, because he really did not have time (or money) to buy a new pair, and had packed a bag with towel, shorts, and his flipflops.

“And what, you think Ma’s not going to want to bring him in and talk to him?”

Bucky hoped to god not; Tony lived in a mansion, Bucky’s family lived in, well, if not the slums, Bucky’s bedroom was tiny, their furniture was old, and he wasn’t sure he was prepared at this time to let Tony see just how far out of Tony’s league Bucky was. He’d just started dating the guy, he didn’t want to lose him already.

He wanted Tony to send his driver and to never actually see the inside of Bucky’s home.

So, of course, Becca was absolutely right.

Tony came up to the intercom and was buzzed in, mounted the stairs because the elevator was out, and was invited in to see and be seen. Bucky was about five seconds from dying of mortification. He wasn’t sure if Ma could tell, and was therefore dragging things out because she was angry that Bucky was ashamed of them, or if Tony and his legendary charm had actually won her over.

“Well,” Tony said, “If I’m going to make sure Bucky’s home on time, we should head out, Mrs. Barnes.”

The reason that Tony hadn’t sent his driver was that Tony had driven his own car. He grabbed a parking ticket off the windshield and stuffed it absently into the glove box; there were a whole pile of other parking tickets in there, Bucky was not surprised to see at all. The car seats were low to the ground, and while the performance was impressive, Bucky was quite certain his butt was now thoroughly acquainted with every single pothole between his place and Tony’s.

The pool room, down in the basement level of Tony’s mansion (well, technically, it was Tony’s parent’s mansion, but they weren’t home, so they didn’t count, Tony insisted) had a door just off the garage. Once the car was stowed -- and it was not even the nicest car in the garage, but there were a whole number of beautiful machines, and Bucky could have made a date just from hearing all th engine specs and sitting in them -- they went in.

“Dressing room’s there,” Tony said, pointing, then gave Bucky a lewd, exaggerated wink, “unless you want to go full on casual, first time.”

“I’ll pass on that, thanks,” Bucky said. He was not in the slightest ready to be actually naked in the same room as Tony.

Reputation aside, Tony was a perfect gentleman. Well, mostly perfect.

Okay, so not perfect at all; he quite obviously checked Bucky out when he came out of the dressing room in his trunks (silver with a red star).

Tony also wore a damn red and gold speedo, which made it really difficult for Bucky to not walk straight into the wall with the effort of not staring at Tony’s butt.

Tony turned up the music and turned down the lights, and then offered Bucky a hand into the hot tub.

Bucky’d never been in a whirlpool before. It was sort of like a bath, if the bath was full of scalding water that actually covered his knees and chest at the same time. And had a comfortable bench to sit on. That he was sharing with Tony. And had jets of water that pummeled at his skin and eased the aches in his muscles.

So, really, nothing like a bath, but was all that he could think of.

Tony had a little flotilla of rubber duckies in the olympic sized pool; when they got too hot from the jacuzzi, Tony would get out, dive into the pool, swim down to the end, and come back to get in the tub.

Bucky stopped to examine all the duckies; there were super hero ducks and ducks in team jerseys. Ducks that were pirates and ninjas and devils. Ducks in a rainbow of colors.

“What’s the deal with the ducks?”

Bucky brought one, black with pink accents, back to the jacuzzi with them and watched as the poor thing kept getting sucked under by the whirlpools.

“My Aunt brings them to me,” Tony said. “Every time she comes to visit and every present giving occasion. My dad hates them. It’s a win, win. I know she thinks of me, every single time she goes anywhere, because all the ducks are different, and I annoy my dad.”

“You like your aunt a lot, huh?”

“She’s the best,” Tony declared. And then he threw the black and pink duck back into the pool. “Wanna dive for pool tokens? If you get more than me, I’ll give you something nice?”

Bucky let the subject of Tony’s aunt drop; it was obviously an issue. “What sort of something nice?”

“You’ll have to beat me to find out.”

Tony took a handful of -- they looked like poker chips, really, although a little heavier -- and tossed them into the pool. “Ready? Steady? Go!”

And the contest was on, diving in, swimming around the bottom, collecting their little stacks of chips.

Bucky had an advantage, because he had greater lung capacity and could hold his breath longer; Tony was faster, and more used to swimming regularly.

“Guess I owe you something nice,” Bucky said when they counted their stacks.

“Guess you do,” Tony said. He pretended to consider it, and then said, “I’ll take a kiss.”

“And what was I going to win, if I beat you?”

“A kiss. Duh.”

Bucky laughed and let Tony draw him in. they were still chest deep in the water and when Tony pressed his mouth to Bucky’s, he lifted his legs and wrapped them around Bucky’s waist.

It was quite the nicest kiss Bucky’d ever had.

**Skip to Prom**


End file.
